


The Perfumist

by Misaya



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Falling In Love, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Perfume
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 22:51:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5266829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misaya/pseuds/Misaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erwin stops by Levi's perfume shop one rainy afternoon, and carries with him the scent that Levi's been dreaming about for months, brushed across his skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perfumist

The small mass of crushed petals was sticky in the ceramic dish in front of him on the glass countertop. Levi had been going for a sharper, rawer scent than the ones he normally ordered online, ticking off little check boxes on a sterile white order form, essential oils capped up in smart little bottles with their names labeled precisely across their fronts. But so far, he had been having moderately little success, unless you counted it a triumph that his fingertips seemed to always carry around the scent of lavender, splotches of pale purple embedded beneath his fingernails like coral meadows.

The day had been almost aggravatingly slow, and Levi would have been supremely irritated had he not been preoccupied with trying to create the tantalizing scent he’d had in a dream three months ago. It had been burnt into his mind ever since, long after the contents of the dream had slipped from his mind like water through his cupped fingers. Something natural, something light, something rhythmic and comforting like the rain that beat down steadily on the pavements outside, washing against the glass sheets of the store’s windows, engraved with lightly stenciled cursive looped in Levi’s signature. The avenue outside was a grey slurry, and the features of any passersby foolish enough to be out in this inclement weather were obscured by upturned collars, the frills of sturdy umbrellas, and the incessant rain that turned the world a wash.

He wrinkled his nose and scraped the crushed lavender buds - useless, absolutely useless – into a twist of tissue paper that he tossed into the small metal trash can beneath the table. Levi sighed and drummed his fingers against the countertop, wondering if he’d even be able to sell anything today. All the people outside were rushing from point A to B, and no one even so much as paused to take a peek into the little fragrance shop.

His perfumes glistened in their small crystal-cut bottles, each finely printed white label penned in his elegant script, each shiny metal cap engraved with his initials wrought in calligraphy. Their reflections gleamed and sparkled, glass shelves mirroring into infinity, and Levi pushed away from the counter to examine his bottles, lined up like neat little soldiers, the soft glow of the fluorescent lights embedded smoothly in the backs of the cases twinkling light over his face.

Ophelia’s Anguish, the label on the bottle directly in front of him read. The cut crystal of the bottle twined into the shape of a heart, constructed out of so many chipped diamonds, and it was cool in the curve of Levi’s hand as he reached out to pop open the cap and hold the scent under his nose. It was a heady mix of roses, but the scent developed over the course of a night, over a few hours, every pulse and every heartbeat converting deeper, darker, the hints of something wild.

He’d made it for Petra, a single bottle of the scent as he always did, pouring the crisp, clean liquid into a crystal decanter he’d had custom made for the occasion. He had hoped the perfume would wind its way into her dreams, but birds in gilded cages can still scream for the door to be unlocked.

She had left before he’d woken up, the morning of their second anniversary, and had left the bottle on his nightstand with a note, a plea, a warning not to come looking for her. He’d respected her wishes, and had put the bottle on the shop’s shelf the very next day. It was the only one without a price tag, because even after four years, Levi was still holding out for the moment when she’d pull open the glass door and waltz into his life again.

This had been his perfect scent, once.

This has been her perfect scent, once.

They had been perfect, once.

He closed his eyes, inhaling deep, deeply, remembering. The copper curls of her hair on his pillowcase like silken treasure, the way freckles danced a constellation across the bridge of her nose, the way her smile had lifted whenever she’d stretched her lips around the first syllables of his name.

Oh, but there it was, that dreadful word. Had. Past tense.

The scent changed, deeper now, darker now, souring. Maybe Levi had always known.

Her accusations had flung like fire. He was too controlling, too insecure, he demanded perfection where none should exist, and she wanted to grow wild and sprawl out across the world in a manner that Levi found utterly terrifying.

“And that’s the problem, now, isn’t it?” she’d asked, eyes wild, mirrored shelves reflecting every angry gesture and every hissed word. “This is enough for you. Your own little corner of the earth where you can lock yourself in. It doesn’t even smell like anything, even though it’s a perfume shop. It’s like nothing, Levi, being with you.”

Oh, yes. He remembered, too much, too well, because memories of her still lingered all over his life.

“Um, excuse me? Sir?”

His eyes snapped open, and he caught a glimpse of himself in he mirrored backing of the shelves. His eyes were glossy, dark pools he could drown in, and Levi wanted to reach into the glass and smack himself. He needed to be getting over her, it had been four years already, he admonished himself sternly as he popped the metal cap back onto the crystal heart and set it back carefully on the shelf.

The man standing behind him had considerately left his umbrella to pool on the welcome mat, and Levi wrinkled his nose in distaste. But no. He couldn’t go over and fix that now, if the man’s Rolex and Burberry overcoat were any indication, he was a paying customer, and Levi couldn’t exactly afford to turn him away just yet.

“Yes?” he asked, forcing a smile. “How can I help you?”

“Oh, I was looking for the staff,” the man replied, smiling easily and nearly blinding Levi with a mouthful of straightly capped, white teeth. “I was looking to purchase a perfume for my fiancée.”

“I am staff,” Levi replied, without missing a beat. He held out his hand. “Levi Ackerman, at your service.”

The man took his hand and grasped it firmly in his own, not even attempting to disguise his surprise. “Erwin Smith. Sorry about that. I pegged you for a customer. Must have been some exceptionally good perfume, if you didn’t hear the door.” His blue eyes twinkled, and Levi was readying himself to fire back a witty retort when Erwin leaned forward to examine the bottle, bringing the long, tanned column of his neck to Levi’s eye level.

Levi took a deep breath, preparing himself to explain that no, unfortunately that particular perfume was not for sale, but the other man’s scent caught his attention first.

The events of his dream, now some three months gone, came rushing back to him in a flurry. A field of dandelions, blooming heads upturned to the moonlight, and Levi setting them in a basket that had no bottom, and everywhere was a sea of yellow, fragrance dancing along with every breeze and every step, crushed petals underfoot.

“Do you wear any cologne?” he found himself asking, abruptly. Erwin turned to look at him, a pleased, puzzled smile lingering around the corners of his full mouth.

“No. Should I?” Erwin asked. “Or is this just your subtle way of telling me I smell?”

“I was just curious,” Levi grumbled, rolling his eyes and marching back off to the counter, where he ripped off an old page on a small notepad and began to scribble. Grapefruit. White pepper. Musk. Clean linen. A study in contradictions. “Feel free to take a look around,” he said, nonchalantly waving a hand over the contents of the store. Something was missing, he was certain of it. There was more complexity, a hidden depth masked by a slight undertone of something he couldn’t quite place his finger on, but Levi would need to study it more. For now, this was a start, at least, more progress than he’d made in the last three months.

“I was hoping you could help me,” Erwin replied, smiling almost sheepishly over at him. “I don’t know too much about perfumes, I’ll be honest.”

Levi glared at his short list a bit longer before setting his ballpoint pen down firmly and heading over. “What does she remind you of?” he asked.

“Pardon?” Erwin asked, cocking an unnaturally thick eyebrow at him. Levi sighed with impatience.

“Your fiancée,” he replied, sniffing in an affect of disdain. Oh. Perhaps that was a hint of jasmine, maybe? Cucumber? The scent of fresh soap? “What does she remind you of? Be honest, now.”

“Ah…” Erwin paused, concentrating. “She reminds me of sunsets by the beach and freshly baking bread and guitar music in the park.”

Levi wrinkled his nose in disgust. Erwin’s fiancée, whoever she was, didn’t seem to be that complex of a person. Boring. That, or perhaps Erwin’s descriptive abilities were horrendous. It was on the tip of Levi’s tongue to recommend that Erwin go to some large chain department store and search for a floral perfume that she could buy over and over again, it would certainly be just as thoughtful and definitely cheaper, when Erwin spoke again.

“But, if we’re being completely honest, sometimes she also reminds me of thorns and black coffee.” Oh? Levi perked up at these new developments. “She can be really bitter and vindictive sometimes, always wanting something I’m not prepared to give her.” Erwin smiled reluctantly, and Levi knew that look well. Bitter remembrances. Levi was closely acquainted with them. “Sorry, was that too frank?”

“Not at all,” Levi affirmed, quickly. “I think I have just the thing.”

He led Erwin to the other side of the shop, far away from Petra’s scent, though if Levi, too, was going to be completely honest, as he’d always meant to be and always failed to be, Ophelia’s Anguish would have fit Erwin’s description of his fiancée perfectly.

The first, second, third, and fourth bottles that Levi showed Erwin were shrugged away with the same response every time. “I don’t know if this fits.” Levi ground his teeth together, suddenly wanting to get Erwin out of his shop and simultaneously wanting him to stay forever, aching to fill his lungs with Erwin’s intoxicating scent that wrapped him in deeper with every comforting breath.

“Are you sure that’s all?” Erwin asked, frowning in despair after Levi had pronounced the twelfth bottle, labeled Cream, as the last one in his inventory. “Marie really wanted something from here ever since she saw that announcement about the princess’s wedding.”

Right. That. Levi had been commissioned by the Princess of Wales half a year ago to create a signature perfume for her, and his name had appeared in the long list of details posted out for the public’s greedy perusal. For months after the advertisement had been put out, the shop had all but swarmed with customers looking for the perfect scent. Levi’s head had been overwhelmed by all the smells, all the noise, and he had been relieved when the deluge of visitors quieted into a stream that was now a trickle, drying up once they found out exactly how much it would cost to commission a single bottle of signature fragrance. Levi never made the same one twice.

“I’m sure –“ he started, but Erwin cut him off.

“What about the one you were smelling over there?” he asked.

Levi paused. The words rose to the tip of his tongue, the one he had used for every inquisitive customer who had made an attempt at it – I’m sorry, it’s not for sale – suddenly felt limp, felt loose and lame, and before he could force the syllables out, Erwin was already heading over, having interpreted Levi’s silence as a go-ahead.

Levi stared as Erwin popped off the cap, wafted it in front of his nose like Levi had shown him. “This is perfect,” he declared, after a moment. “I think it’ll really fit her.”

Levi’s words were stuck in his throat. He wanted to protest, he wanted to accept, he wanted to warn Erwin that the scent would sour as the night went on, but the choke of his throat only allowed him to nod mutely and head over to the cash register.

Deep breaths, deep breaths now, he cautioned himself as he counted out Erwin’s change into the palm of his hand. Grapefruit. White pepper. Musk. Clean linen. Soap.

“Thank you so much,” Erwin said, beaming appreciatively as Levi wrapped the cut crystal bottle in several layers of tissue paper. “I’m sure she’ll love it.”

“Of course,” Levi replied, placing the wrapped bottle in a small paper bag, the twine handles of which Erwin immediately wrapped around his wrist. “Be careful,” he called, as an afterthought, watching Erwin’s retreating silhouette wind its way to the front of the shop again.

“Don’t worry, I won’t slip,” Erwin called back with a smile that Levi could see even from here, bright sparks of color against the grey backdrop of the world.

The door opened with a whoosh, the heavy sounds and smells of the thunderstorm outside wiping Levi’s mind clean. Water roared and gurgled down the sewers, and Erwin shook out his umbrella, little sparkling droplets, before the door swung shut again and he turned into one more nameless, faceless passerby traipsing down the street, a soft blue bag dangling from his wrist.

Levi sighed. Quiet, again. He turned back to his list.

* * *

 

Days passed turned into weeks passed turned into months passed, and the world slowly slipped into its sleepy winter solstice, the days growing shorter and the nights growing longer, darkness at five o’clock. The shop glittered through the night, a nest of jewels that no one stopped in to look at, and Levi flung away his anxiety about the shop’s bills, pouring himself headlong into the creation of the perfect scent that still haunted him at night.

Some small aspect of it still evaded him, a slight floral undertone, not too overpowering, the note slipped in almost absentmindedly behind the sharp tang of citrus and the spicier hints of pepper. Levi had given up on trying to deduce what it was, and had started going through the scents systematically, ticking off check boxes on sterile white paper.

Almond oil. Ambergris. Aloe vera. Check, check, check. No, it was none of these, Levi was quite sure.

Calone. Cashmeran. Frangipani. Check, check, check.

Oh, if only he could smell it again! Levi crumpled up yet another piece of paper, another short list of ingredients and combinations that meant nothing, nothing whatsoever, and tossed it into the trash can to join another multitude of crumpled lists. The bottles of perfume he’d produced from his failures sat pretty on the shelves, each a distorted reflection of the others, relabeled with enticing names. Sea Mist, An Orchard of Whispers, Moonlight Walks. Things he felt sure Erwin would like.

The bells over the door jingled, and Levi turned to greet the customer, pasting a polite smile on his face that dropped away when he saw who it was.

Erwin looked tired, his mouth a tight line, new wrinkles sprouting like blossoms around the corners of his eyes, and every step Levi took towards him felt like slow motion. Here it was, back again, and maybe this time around he’d be able to sleep at night, maybe he’d finally be able to figure out what it was…

Erwin’s scent hit him, battered him in waves, and he stopped short, abrupt.

“Have you been smoking?” he demanded, half accusatory, half horrified. No! This wouldn’t do. He wanted to tear his hair out by the roots. Didn’t Erwin know smoking pounded chemicals through him, into him? Didn’t he know he smelled like ash and tar, like so many signatures of despair?

“What’s it to you?” Erwin asked, dully. That beautiful scent was gone, gone forever, and all the imitated mockeries of it laughed bitter in their crystal bottles.

Anger swept through Levi, a maelstrom, a tempest, a bruise an ache an agony. “I’ve spent months trying to recreate it,” he snapped, without thinking, taking savage pleasure from the way Erwin winced as though scalded by the vitriol of his words. “And then you come back in here, teasing me with just that slightest bit of hope, for me to find that you’ve burnt it all away?” Snow was starting to fall outside, coating the world in silver silence. “Who did you lose?” Levi asked, glaring up into oceans that had gone stormy.

“I…what?” Erwin asked, faintly. “I just came here to give you back the perfume –“

“I don’t do refunds,” Levi quipped, quickly. “Tell me what happened.”

Erwin paused. Thinking. The moments stretched into minutes, and Levi began to fear that he’d been far too forward, far too direct. As he was about to backtrack and try to apologize in the best way he knew how, Erwin began to speak again.

“We broke it off,” he said, quietly. “She said that we weren’t right for each other.” And oh, how well Levi knew those words, how well he recognized the chemical scent of sadness lingering beneath the smoke like patchouli and deadened leaves thick on a forest floor. “I…we…yeah.” He sighed, heavy, quavery, a shine of gloss gleaming in his eyes as he held up the same heart-shaped crystal bottle for Levi to take. It was still three-quarters full, and the clear liquid sloshed inside as Levi reached out to take it. “Sorry for the inconvenience. I don’t expect a refund, or anything like that, but I figured that last time you looked like you really liked this perfume, so it might be nice to have as a memory…”

“We broke it off, too,” Levi said, so lowly that Erwin could barely hear him. The weight of the crystal cut bottle was heavily familiar in his hands. “I made this for her.”

“Oh.” Erwin took a deep breath, wincing in sympathy. “Sorry to hear that.”

Levi shrugged, surprising himself. “What will be, will be,” he said, nonchalantly, and, like that, the weight of the past six years gently dissipated in the face of anguish rawer than its own. “Business is pretty slow tonight, do you want to come upstairs and have a coffee?”

Erwin agreed readily, and watched as Levi flung the turn sign on the window to “Closed,” flicking off the lights and setting the alarm system to armed. The crystal bottles glittered iridescent, reflecting lights from the street lamps and passing vehicles. Satisfied that everything was in order, Levi carefully set Ophelia’s Anguish back on its shelf before beckoning Erwin to follow him to his upstairs apartment and workroom. The memories could wait for another day.

* * *

 

The soft scent of dark roast coffee mixed with the lighter notes of French vanilla as Levi poured coffee into two porcelain cups and handed one to Erwin, who wrapped his hands around it, luxuriating in the warmth.

He took a few appreciative sips, letting the flavors mingle and mellow on his tongue before turning to Levi and asking, “Earlier, downstairs, you said you’d spent months trying to recreate something? And that I’d ruined it, somehow?”

Levi started, his cup rattling against the table. He hadn’t expected Erwin to remember, hadn’t expected Erwin to take it seriously. “Yeah, about that,” he muttered, not meeting Erwin’s eye. “The first time you came in, I thought you smelled nice.”

“Oh?” Erwin’s eyebrows arched, the first hint of a smile flitting around the corners of his mouth. “And you say you spent months trying to make something that smelled like me?”

Levi waved it away irritably. “Forget about it,” he mumbled, taking another sip of coffee. “It’s gone now, anyways.”

Erwin’s shoulders sagged, winded. “Right. Sorry about that.”

The silence stretched out between them, silver like the snowflakes spilling outside to coat the world in a blanket of white. It had been a bad idea to invite Erwin upstairs, Levi thought, but he had been curious, he had been sympathetic, and perhaps Erwin fit in here, the gloss of his hair luminescent in the fluorescent light overhead. He was beautiful, and this, in and of itself, was enough to make Levi sit up and pay attention.

“I should get going,” Erwin said finally, setting down his empty cup with a rattle. “Don’t want to get snowed in and impose on your hospitality for too long.”

“Alright,” Levi said, reluctantly, standing up to usher Erwin to the door. Erwin toed on his shoes, shrugged on his coat, and as he was slipping his arms through the sleeves, Levi caught a trace of it again, embedded in the lining of the fleece. “Wait.”

Erwin turned to look at him expectantly. “Yes?”

The words were on the tip of Levi’s tongue, eager to be leashed loose and out of his control, but his reserve won out, exactly like Petra would have nagged him about. “No. It’s nothing,” he said, finally. “Please come again soon.” He wanted to take back these words as quickly as he’d said them. It implied a future that surely Erwin didn’t intend to be a part of, but if anyone asked, he could say it was just his default goodbye for customers.

There was a distinct twinkle in Erwin’s eye as he replied, “I’ll be sure to,” and headed off.

* * *

 

True to his words, Erwin became a regular visitor to the perfume shop, sometimes coming in with bags of takeout looped around his wrist that they would share, opening the Styrofoam containers on the glass countertop and cracking open fortune cookies together, laughing over the tiny platitudes. He filled the shop with smells, interesting and lovely in their own ways, and Levi inhaled deeply every time Erwin walked through the door.

He could tell the exact week Erwin stopped smoking. He came to Levi with a smile, smelling neat, neutral, clean, and Levi’s heart leapt as Erwin pushed a square of tiramisu, Levi’s favorite dessert, across the countertop to him with a shy smile.

“They were having a sale at the corner bakery,” he explained. Levi took it, whipped cream and espresso powder and the sharp sweet smell of liqueur tickling at his nose as he shaved off a forkful and held it out to Erwin.

The world shifted, and the sun began to peep through the heavy snow clouds again, filling the shop with brightness. It had been months since Levi had even glanced at Ophelia’s Anguish, and the scents he’d started to produce were lighter, happier, effervescence bottled up in crystal, selling like mad as people began to put away their heavy winter coats and the flowers began to blossom riotous, filling the cracks and crevices of the world with color.

Erwin stepped into the shop one lazy spring evening when Levi was just finishing tallying up the last of the day’s sales, bringing with him the smell. Levi’s pen dropped to the countertop.

It was back. Grapefruit. White pepper. Clean linen. Musk. Soap. That certain je ne sais quoi that Levi still couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Erwin was standing in the shop entrance, nervously clutching a cellophane-wrapped bouquet of roses, and Levi’s heart fell. Oh. It was this. Erwin had found someone else, another woman to fill his thoughts full of herself. He was in love, that was what that fragrance was, and Levi felt himself souring, bitterness, even as Erwin approached the counter.

“Hey, Levi.”

“Hey,” he muttered, furiously concentrating on his calculations. Carry the one. He refused to meet Erwin’s eyes, though he could feel the weight of Erwin’s curious gaze heavy on the crown of his head. “Going somewhere?” A barb, every rose has its thorns.

“What?” Erwin sounded surprised. “No. I just came to see you.”

Levi looked up, his mouth open and a retort waiting ready on the tip of his tongue, but Erwin thrust the bouquet into his arms before he could speak.

“For you,” Erwin explained sheepishly, his eyes downcast. “I thought that, I don’t know, maybe…” He trailed off, shifting his weight from foot to foot as Levi looked down in awe at the flowers in his hands. They were fresh, water still glistening on their crimson petals. Not too fragrant, a neat, clean smell that had Levi thinking of morning meadows sprinkled lightly with dew. The petals were velvet soft against his fingertips, a blush blossoming across his face.

“Are you saying that…?” he asked, hoping, waiting for Erwin to complete the sentence.

“Yes, I do,” Erwin replied, quickly. “’If that’s, if you’re, if it’s something you’re okay with.”

Levi smiled, burying his nose in the petals. A fresh start, the promises of something sweet, and he’d place them in a vase on the countertop so they could bloom and spread their blossoming heady fragrance through the shop.

“I was beginning to think you’d never ask,” he said, grinning, heart fluttering, and Erwin’s smile glittered relief over the crystal bottles in the shop as he reached over the countertop to press a shy, tentative kiss to Levi’s mouth. The cellophane crinkled between them, and Levi closed his eyes, tasting, breathing, living, the color sparking out to fill his soul with butterflies.

Oh. Sandalwood. That was what it was, a base note of strength and comfort that Erwin poured into him with every soft whispered affection. The scent of love.


End file.
